


Ten

by bigstupidjellyfish



Series: Crimes Against Creation [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Past Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 08:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2500697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigstupidjellyfish/pseuds/bigstupidjellyfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because Getaway is always chipper and enthusiastic doesn't mean he didn't spend months in prison being interrogated and tortured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten

_There goes interrogation rant number “I really, really don't care anymore”_ , Getaway thought to himself.

 

There were golden body parts everywhere. Getaway never understood why Tyrest decided to run interrogations in the same place where Legislators were being assembled, but he admitted the setting was unnerving at best. He thought if he survived Luna 1, he would never be able to look at something yellow again.

 

Out of habit, the marksman tried the clasps that held his arms and legs stretched. That part also never changed - no matter what the Chief Justice wanted to talk about to his prisoner or what experiments Getaway was subjected to, he was effectively immobilized.

 

He eyed Tyrest, or rather his back, carefully. The Chief Justice was silent for the whole time since Getaway was brought there, looking at the assembly lines. That was unusual, the marksman noted, Tyrest was the chatty type of interrogator: the spy managed to get more information from him that the other way around, and Getaway would be proud of himself if it somehow improved his chances of survival. By now, the only thing that guaranteed the delay of execution was how long he could keep his mouth shut, and it was a long time already.

 

There also was a thing that he thought he'd never see again. His nudge gun, or rather what's left of it - apparently they tried to disassemble it and triggered its destruction - was on the table next to him. Getaway never had a chance to use his blank charge to wipe away all compromising memories.

 

Puzzled by all that, Getaway almost wanted to ask Tyrest the meaning of it against his better judgment.

 

"I'm still haunted by what I have done to the Matrix", came from Tyrest. "To think that a knock-off would be a potential Matrix bearer", Tyrest shook his head. "Unbelievable".

 

 _As unbelievable as the fact that you're still not willing to shut up about it_ , Getaway decided to keep that thought to himself. Some part of the Chief Justice's rants was dedicated solely to that topic, like he took personal offense in the fact that the spy was among the potential Matrix bearers. He probably actually took offense in that, given his passionate opinions on the subject. Getaway refused to participate in interrogation whatsoever when Tyrest was going on about the inevitable fall of Cybertronian society if they would let a knock-off like him to become a Prime. The escapologist had his reasons to hate this subject, and he had no wish to let Tyrest know about it.

 

Fortunately - as "fortunate" as his position was, - the Chief Justice seemed to have something different on his mind. He said, turning to Getaway:

 

"Thankfully, soon this nightmare of reality will be over".

 

Getaway listened attentively. Was Tyrest ready to deploy his beloved killswitch? He felt as if his fuel lines were freezing.

 

"You still have a chance to come clean, Getaway. It won't save you from dying, but you might find peace in having your crimes confessed and atoned".

 

"Uh-huh", Getaway couldn't hold back. "I confess. I was created in response to the war you couldn't stop despite your best efforts, Chief Justice. Can I have my amnesty now?"

 

Tyrest didn't laugh.

 

"Your crime against creation is not a subject for atonement", he came closer to the prisoner. His face was serious and terrifying at the same time, solemn light of his yellow optics contrasting with a gaping hole in his forehelm. Getaway wondered if he imagined seeing small sparks of electricity in that damaged brain module or it was his own videofeed glitching. "It's about your attack on the Chief Justice".

 

"What attack?"

 

Tyrest shook his head. He turned his gaze away from the marksman to the table with his gun.

 

"It's almost like your memory of your crime has been erased", Tyrest said, picking up the remains of nudge gun with two fingers as if it was dirty.

 

Suddenly, a wild guess raced through Getaway's mind. His interrogators never brought up memory wipe before, and he was sure that it was impossible to understand the purpose of the nudge gun after its self-destruction. The only possible explanation was that Tyrest managed to acquire a duplicate. Most likely, with its owner.

 

The Chief Justice stepped away from the prisoner. He instructed the drone to turn on a monitor, the same which showed the first run of the killswitch on the members of Circle of Light. Getaway shuddered at the memory of the videofeed: no sound, just sickly green smoke and armor plates falling off from these bots. He didn't think of himself to be lucky it wasn't him - if Tyrest would deploy the killswitch, he would die in the same way. His recharge hours in his cell were haunted with imaginary screams ever since.

 

This time the monitor showed something different. Getaway made himself pay attention and look. He recognized the massive silhouette of Star Saber. Sometimes the fanatic visited interrogation sessions, always voting for executing the prisoner right away, and to say that Getaway wasn't happy to see this one particular mech was an understatement. It looked like Star Saber was carrying carelessly two mechs to the cells: a small white minibot Getaway wasn't sure he met before and a very familiar blue figure of Skids.

 

Despite his restraints, Getaway tried to move closer to the screen. The image was far from ideal, but he saw pretty clearly that Skids didn't go down without a fight, and the fight was a tough one. The marksman winced as he noticed that even canons on his partners' back were torn out.

 

He was still processing new information when Tyrest spoke again, voice even and calm:

 

"Your partner has been caught, as you see. According to my intel, he has no memory of last months, and all attempts to catch him simulating his amnesia were unsuccessful so far," the Chief Justice lifted his right hand up, index digit transforming into a small drill, and started looking carefully for a place on his body to place another hole. He sank his finger into his hip, and sighed as if the act of self-harm brought Tyrest relief. Getaway flinched involuntarily at the shrill of metal being pierced. He had no reason to, though: the Chief Justice never laid a finger on him, too disgusted by the idea of merely touching a knock-off. He didn't think of being thankful to that: Tyrest had plenty of Legislators around, and there was that autobot doctor gone rogue, Pharma, who was okay with touching and subjected Getaway gleefully to his experiments - nothing too invasive, nothing to leave permanent marks, but all too precise, too painful. The escapologist looked away from Tyrest thinking to himself that the only miracle of Luna 1 was that it attracted absolute madmen.

 

"So that lead me to the conclusion that this strange gun of yours that was meant to plant a foreign thought into my head", Tyrest touched it on the table, not picking it up, "was also your guarantee that you won't compromise the mission and your command. And that Skids succeeded at using his own. Am I correct?"

 

Getaway let a shaky ex-vent, sure that his expression betrayed him. There wasn't much point in denying this.

 

"Am I correct?" Tyrest leaned closer to Getaway and repeated his question.

 

"Yes", the prisoner tried to look somewhere else, but he saw only golden metal plates so he offlined his optics. He was pretty sure where this was going, but he refused to even process that realization in case he was wrong just not to give Tyrest ideas.

 

"When I become finally free of my sins, when I deploy the killswitch and purge this world", Tyrest continued, "you will die. There is no way around that, Getaway. But your partner, Skids, will survive the killswitch. Unlike you, he has a chance to atone for his crimes. Of course, an attack on the Chief Justice would almost always lead to execution, but for the sake of the new world, I am willing to overlook the severity of his punishment. He will be sentenced to many years in prison".

 

Getaway felt a big "but" coming and braced for it, feeling a horror creeping around his spark case.

 

"But", Tyrest didn't disappoint, "I can't do it without his sincere confession, which he cannot provide as he has no memory of his crime", the Chief Justice fell silent.

 

Getaway waited for continuation. It didn't come. He dared switching videofeed back on and saw that the madman was watching him attentively, waiting for his answer. Marksman looked at the monitor again and saw that it was turned off.

 

"If I", his vox coder stuttered, "if I confess on his behalf, would that count?"

 

That probably was the only way out of this mess for at least one of them. If he was to be gone as a spare part, as a just another M.T.O. again, that was the only difference he could make.

 

"Yes", Tyrest answered immediately. Against all logical judgment, Getaway believed that Tyrest wouldn't break his word. After spending months listening to his rants he could tell that he knew the Chief Justice pretty well.

 

Getaway's gaze rested on the black screen, though he still saw beaten up frame of his partner, his friend. His suppressed panic gave a strange turn to his thought process. If Tyrest was feeling so generous, maybe he could be generous not to Skids only.

 

"Okay", his breath was shaky. "Okay. I will confess," marksman said in steadier voice. "But I want to spend the time before my execution in the same cell as Skids", Tyrest listened to him without expression. "Please", he added, his newfound hope already fading away.

 

"Your last wish will be granted", Tyrest said finally. Not believing his audio sensors, Getaway looked up at the Chief Justice again, not that his face was changed.

 

Tyrest fiddled with some controls of the restraining machine, and Getaway felt a harness sliding around his neck, charged with electricity. The real - the first - interrogation was about to start.

 

"Shall we begin?"

 

Getaway shuddered, but instead of cold hard restraints on his arms and legs and buzzing harness on his heck he felt something different, something warm around his frame. Instead of Tyrest's voice drilling into his brain module, he heard:

 

"Wake up. Come on Getaway, it's just a dream".

 

Was it? It felt too real.

 

He onlined his optics, still disoriented, and saw dark room that was his hab suite and a familiar figure lying next to him.

 

There was no way _that_ wasn't a dream, he thought, his frame still shaking with ghost memories of pain. He couldn't be lying curled around Skids, his partner's hands holding him close, his murmuring calming him down. He must've died - or he was dying, and it was just a hallucination, like the ones he had when he was young and scared on the battlefield.

 

"Skids?" Getaway tried anyway. At least this one was so much nicer than other visions. He felt warm hands on his back pressing him closer to the theoretician. Still sleepy from the interrupted recharge, Skids nuzzled Getaway's chest plates and said, vox coder producing voice a tone lower:

 

"You were thrashing and whimpering. Bad dream?"

 

The escapologist looked down on his friend. Correction, he thought to himself. His lover. If it was a hallucination, he'd prefer it to go all the way.

 

Testing this reality, Getaway placed his hand on Skids' helm, watching him blinking half-lit optics slowly.

 

"Yes. Something like that", he whispered. "Sorry I woke you up".

 

"'S no big deal", he slurred. "It's over, Getaway".

 

Getaway dared his luck:

 

"Oh yeah? And Tyrest?"

 

"What about him? Oh. Shot by Ultra Magnus. Or Minimus? Does he still count as Ultra Magnus out of that armor?"

 

"It's the middle of sleep-cycle, Skids, don't ask these things", marksman felt the unpleasant heat of panic leaving his circuits and stroked Skids' cheek. "What about Pharma? The one that looked just like our CMO, but crazy?"

 

"Head. Blown off. The guy had it coming".

 

Right. It was a miracle that Pharma lived that long, considering his charming personality. He remembered that sometimes Tyrest, listening to medic's ramblings, looked like he was ready to drill another hole in his brain module.

 

"Is it bad that I find some joy in that fact?"

 

"We can live without celebrating that day, but I'm glad this bastard died, too," Skids took Getaway's hand in his and brought it to his mouth, lip plates barely touching blue fingers, “And don’t mention to Ratchet that he looks like him”.

 

"Okay, not unless I am at the safe distance. Star Saber?"

 

"Hmm", Skids kissed his palm. "Not sure. Cyclonus wounded him, but he escaped".

 

"Goddamn it, Cyclonus", the escapologist couldn't hold back laughing. He calmed down. His nightmare wasn't just a dream, but this - this wasn't a hallucination either. "I'll put him on the tab at Swerve's anyway".

 

"Why not Magnus or First Aid?" Skids was smiling now, too.

 

"Uh, I don't think they will get the joke. I had my share of being arrested by control freaks and dissected by medics, thanks".

 

Yellow optics brightened in the dark.

 

"I'm sorry", Skids said, looking away. His smile was gone. "I shouldn't have said that".

 

Getaway shook his head and moved closer.

 

"It's alright, partner. You're right: it's over".

 

They both were silent for some time, too awake to go to recharge again, and Getaway didn't like this silence, almost awkward, several degrees colder than comfortable.

 

"And what about", he asked tentatively, brushing his thumb against his partner's jaw, "Skids?"

 

Skids chuckled at that.

 

"I heard he's alive and kicking. Has a beautiful lover now who keeps him up at night".

 

"Oh, you didn't just..." Getaway laughed, sincerely and relieved. Skids grinned, and his optics shined with satisfaction. "Okay. I'd say he's one lucky bastard then, that Skids", he pressed his forehelm into theoretician's. "And Getaway? What's up with him?"

 

Skids didn't answer to that. Instead, he kissed Getaway's maskplate, ex-vents tickling on his face, hands stroking his back. Getaway regretted not for the first time about his inability to reciprocate this act of affection, even though Skids didn't mind it at all. Maybe it should have felt weird for him, but marksman enjoyed the intimacy of the gesture, the tender touch of smooth and flexible plates.

 

They parted.

 

"You are safe, Getaway", Skids whispered against his faceplate. "We're both okay. And I love you".

 

Getaway blinked, caught off-guard. He hid his face in the crook of Skids' neck and breathed:

 

"I love you, too, Skids".

 

Skids patted him on his back reassuringly.

 

Few silent minutes later, Getaway was already dozing off when he heard Skids' whisper:

 

"I'll talk to Swerve about removing Ten from the bar".

 

"What? Why?" the escapologist asked sleepily.

 

"You jump every time you see it".

 

Getaway snorted:

 

"No, I don't".

 

"Uh-huh".

 

A pause. He might have jumped, actually. Once.

 

"No, Skids, I seriously don't!" Getaway was awake now and aware of that Skids was teasing him. "Thanks for your concern, though", he added quietly.

 

"Anytime, partner".

**Author's Note:**

> When I told my friends who introduced me to MTMTE about fascinating relationship between Skids and Getaway, their replies were identical "WRITE IT YOURSELF LOL". Couple of months later, I show up with this, so thanks for inspiring me.


End file.
